Networking
by CassidyMontague
Summary: New Chapter Submitted Dec.14.05. The Hardy Boys are living their lives a year after the death of Iola Morton. The Network, their sometimes ally and sometimes nemesis, once more interferes with their life.
1. Chapter One Waking Up Is Hard To Do

**The Network Mystery**

**By Cassidy Montague**

**Chapter 1 "Waking Up Is Hard to Do"**

Joe Hardy woke to the taste of a girl who was no longer his girlfriend on his lips and the vision of her fresh in his mind. He blinked his eyes several times to clear the sleep from them and sighed as he settled back against the warm softness of his pillows. As he woke more fully, the girl's face faded until it was the ghost of a vision that it had been since her death only a year before.

_Sorry, Iola,_ he thought again, not for the first time in that last year. _I'm so sorry that you were the one who died. It should have been me._

Joe rolled over onto his side and buried his face into the pillow, ignoring the chiding of his older brother in his ears. Frank always insisted that Iola's death was no more Joe's fault than it was Frank's or Chet's or anyone else's. It was the fault of Al-Roussasa, the Assassin who had set the bomb in their car and blown it to kingdom come, along with dark-haired, pixie-faced Iola Morton.

_It was Al-Roussasa's fault, _Joe reminded himself. _And Al-Roussasa is now dead – he had paid the price for everything he has done._

Stretching, Joe finally sat up and looked toward the window in his room. He could see a beam of sunlight through a break in the curtains and he turned to look at the clock on his bedside table. 7:00 a.m. Why on God's green earth was he awake this early on a Saturday? He didn't like mornings as a rule and waking up at 7 a.m. on a day when he had no school was absolutely insane.

_All right, Hardy, _Joe told himself. _Let's move. Up and at 'em boy. You know why you're up. Vanessa wants you to help her at the rummage sale. And you have to go and pick her up before you go!_

Joe sprang to his feet and went into the bathroom he shared with his older brother, Frank. Joe brushed his teeth before running a comb through his blonde curls and washing his face and hands. He applied deodorant before digging into his closet for a clean pair of jeans and a t-shirt. The first t-shirt he came to read featured a rabbit in front of a car with a mad driver that read: "I'm only nice to one person everyday, today is not your day, tomorrow doesn't look good either."

Since it was a t-shirt that his current girlfriend, Vanessa, had given him, it was the perfect shirt to wear for the day. He pulled his t-shirt on and found a pair of clean socks, put them and his tennis shoes on and galloped down the stairs.

"Morning, Mom!" he crossed to his mother and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "How's my favorite lady in the whole world today?"

Laura Hardy cast an amused glance at her blue-eyed son. "I'm just fine. And what has you so cheerful this morning?"

"It's beautiful out!" Joe pointed to the living room where sunlight shone in, lighting it. "Can't you just see yourself out in that today?"

"Who are you and what have you done with my son?" Laura waved a spatula at him. "You've been replaced by a clone."

Joe laughed. "I'm in a good mood is all," Joe sat down at the table and dished two already prepared pancakes onto a plate. It took no time at all to eat them, or the next three pancakes that came off of the griddle. "Mmm, good pancakes, Mom. Where's Dad?"

"Out fighting with the lawn mower," Laura motioned to the backyard with her spatula. "He thought that since he'd be home for a bit that he might get to know the back lawn again. I think the lawn mower is winning, though."

Joe laughed. "You might remind him that you have to pump the handle twice, then pull the cord."

"I might," Laura smiled mischievously. "And I might let him fight with it a while longer. I'd hate to deprive the mighty hunter of his morning's amusement."

"You're bad, Mom," Joe laughed.

"I know," Laura said. "I take after my youngest son."

Joe burst out laughing even hard and he got up to give his mom a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"I've gotta scoot," he said. "I told Van I'd pick her up and bring her to the rummage sell. Her car's broken."

"Have a good day, honey. Sell lots," Laura grinned. "Where in the world is Frank? Isn't he going with you?"

"He's supposed to meet Callie there," Joe agreed. "He wasn't up when I was in the bathroom, though. I've gotta get! Bye!"

With that, Joe practically flew out the door and raced to the large van that he shared with his brother. In moments he was gone.

- - - - - - -

Coughing and rubbing at his forehead, Frank Hardy woke slowly, feeling the weight of the day pressing down on already sore lungs and sore throat. Hacking until he thought a lung might be making a bid for freedom, Frank struggled to breathe steadily until the coughing abated and he was able to sit up in his bed.

"This is the pits," he groaned as he slid his feet off the bed.

Frank rubbed at his eyes and looked toward the bathroom door. Seeing that it was cracked open, the signal that said the bathroom was available; Frank got up to his feet and walked into the bathroom. He dug into the medicine cabinet until he found a half-full bottle of cough syrup. After downing a healthy dose, he put the bottle back and washed his face.

_I feel like crap,_ he thought with a sigh. _I feel worse than crap._

There was no way, though, that he was going to miss school just because he had a cold. Frank rubbed at his eyes again and dug into a drawer for a comb. After combing his hair down he brushed his teeth and went back into his bedroom. He found a blue polo shirt folded neatly in the top drawer of his dresser and took out a pair of jeans from the closet. After dressing he struggled with his shoes until he gave up and put on his one pair of slip on shoes.

Frank walked slowly down the stairs, holding onto the handrail in case a bout of dizziness swept over him. The dark-haired young man found his mother at the kitchen counter, whistling a tune as she read her newspaper.

"Mom?" he said uncertainly, wondering why she had pancakes going on the griddle when it wasn't Saturday. Was it?

"Good morning, sweetheart," Laura turned her attention from the newspaper to address her firstborn. "How are you today?"

"I feel like crap," Frank admitted. "Why are we having pancakes today?"

Laura cocked an eyebrow at him. "Because we have pancakes on Saturdays, remember? You must not be feeling well."

"It's Saturday?" Frank rasped. "I forgot…"

Laura put her hand on his forehead and frowned. "You don't seem to have a fever. Maybe you should just go back to bed. You can call Callie and tell her you don't feel well."

"Callie!" Frank exclaimed. "I forgot that too. I promised her I'd help with the rummage sell. Can't let her down. I'll just take some orange juice."

He drank two glasses of orange juice and jumped when he heard muffled cursing from behind him, coming from the vicinity of the garage.

"What?" he asked his mother.

"Your father is in there, fighting with the lawn mower," Laura looked totally bemused at the thought. "I think he's enjoying it, don't you?"

Frank thought about it, a smile ruining his attempt at serious contemplation. "Didn't we get our mouths washed out with soap for using that kind of language?"

"You did," Laura agreed affably. She was cut off by yet more cursing and something that sounded like a muffled ring of metal – the kind of sound a lawn mower makes when it's been kicked by a shoe-clad human foot.

Frank laughed and coughed. "Mom, you could tell him…"

"Oh, I will," Laura sipped at the cup of coffee that had been sitting beside her newspaper. "Eventually."

Frank laughed again. "I've got to go. Can I take your car?"

"Of course," Laura sighed. "You should stay home in bed, though."

"I'll take it easy," Frank promised. "If I feel worse I'll come home. Promise. Alright?"

"Alright," Laura gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Go forth and sell, my son."

Frank laughed again. "I will. Bye, Mom. Tell dad I wish him and the lawn mower my best."

Laura flashed her oldest a wicked grin. "I will."

- - - - - -

"Hello, baby!" a blonde-haired, brown-eyed young woman approached Frank as he walked into the large recreation hall of the Calvary Church in Bayport. The young woman, Frank's girlfriend Callie Shaw, gave Frank a kiss on the cheek and hugged him. "You don't look so well. Are you all right?"

Frank nodded and coughed again. "Woke up with a cold this morning," he explained. "But I didn't want to let you down. I can handle a little work for a while."

"You didn't have to come, Frank," Callie touched his forehead with the back of her hand. "Well, you don't feel feverish. Are you sure you fell well enough to do this? Van and Joe are both here and there's several others from the church helping out as well – you could go back to bed."

"Oh, I will," Frank nodded. "But not right now. Right now, I feel up to helping so where do you want me first?"

Frank saw his brother and his brother's ash-blonde girlfriend, Vanessa, standing near some CD shelves. They were putting CDs on different shelves, sorting them alphabetically and by genre.

"That way," Callie explained to Frank. "People who are looking for certain kinds of music don't have to sort through that whole stake trying to find what they want. The hard part was getting them to agree on a system!"

Frank grinned; he could well imagine the kinds of arguments Vanessa, who was methodic and logical about things and Joe, who was sort of fly by the seat of his pants orient, had. He laughed and went to help another of the helpers set up some new tables near the front of the large room.

"We've only got another hour!" Callie exclaimed a few minutes later as she set up a variety of kitchenware onto the first of the new tables. "Hurry, hurry!"

Frank and the other helper, a man named David Chambers, set-up two more tables before Frank turned to help Callie sort out the men's clothing. Another helper piled up different types of shirts and trousers and hung up suit jackets on a rolling bar behind the table. Joe and Vanessa finished off the CDs and moved on to the videos and DVDs.

"Go and get something to drink," Callie told Frank a little later. "You look flushed. Come here."

She pulled Frank closer and checked his forehead again. "You're getting feverish, babe. I think maybe you should go home now."

"There's not much longer, right?" Frank asked. "I can finish up."

He coughed several times, hard and he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. "I think I will get something to drink. Want anything?"

"No," Callie smiled and kissed his cheek again. "I'll get something later. Go on."

Frank made his way over to the snack table and found another cup of orange juice that he drank down in one drink. He found more in a pitcher nearby and poured some more into his glass.

Turning away he stopped when he saw a familiar figure standing nearby. Standing near the back wall of the room was a man Frank never thought to ever see in a church, much less near a rummage sale. The man was nondescript, so ordinary you would normally look past him if you didn't know him. Medium height, neat-cut hair, wearing a rumpled gray suit, the man known as Arthur Gray, was talking to another man. Frank stepped closer to him then stopped as Gray handed a large briefcase to the other man. The man snapped open the case for just a moment, peeked in through a crack and nodded. He reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope.

Frank, mesmerized, watched as Arthur Gray, otherwise known by the secret agent name of "The Gray Man" took the envelope and opened it. Something shining, catching the light from overhead into its depths, fell into Gray's hand. He smiled and nodded before he put it back into the envelope, stuck the envelope into his inner jacket pocket and slipped out the side door of the Church.

_Diamonds, _Frank thought, numbly. _The Gray Man just bought diamonds!_


	2. Chapter Two Who Says Diamonds Are

**Networking**

**By Cassidy Montague**

**Chapter 2 "Who Says 'Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend?'"**

Two large oak trees flanked the doorway going out of the recreation center of the church building and very nicely blocked Frank's line-of-sight with the Gray Man and the purchaser. Neither man had hurried from the building but Frank lost time when he bent over double in a coughing fit and he debated, for a moment, yelling for Joe to come and help him. His brother stood near the set-up tables, his arms full of clothing that Vanessa took from him, one-at-a-time, and folded into piles onto the table. Joe looked disgruntled at pack mule service but Frank knew better. Vanessa had Joe wrapped right around her little finger.

A smile tweaked at the corners of Frank's mouth as he ran down the sidewalk toward the parking lots. He saw two cars leaving, one a nondescript brown Ford sedan with local license plats. The other was a newer, black, two-door Saturn. Frank sighed as both cars sped off out of the parking lot and he leaned forward in another coughing fit before he went back inside the church to find Callie, Joe and Vanessa.

"There you are!" Callie exclaimed as she approached her boyfriend. "What happened to you? I thought maybe you decided to cut out of here without saying goodbye."

"Nope," Frank smiled as he took her hand. "I would never do that to you babe. No, I saw something I needed to go check out."

"Don't tell me you found a mystery in my church, Frank Hardy," Callie declared, brown eyes twinkling merrily.

"The nose for mysteries works as good as ever," Frank grinned, despite feeling like crap. "Let's get Joe over here and I'll tell you what I saw."

He coughed again and sneezed. He reached into his pocket for a handkerchief and blew his nose, hard, into it.

"Are you sure you're feeling okay, Frank?" Callie asked him as she touched his forehead again. "You're starting to get warm. I think you should go home."

"Trying to get rid of me?" Frank asked. "Don't tell me, your other boyfriend is coming?"

"Well, now that you mention it," Callie teased. "And I have to get rid of you before he shows up, otherwise he might get jealous."

"Mm-hmm," Frank flicked one of Callie's curls. "He doesn't hold a candle to me, whoever he is. I'm the man. Right?"

"Riight," Callie drew the word out and laughed. "No, baby, I want you to go take care of yourself. You look… well, to be honest, you look miserable."

"Feel it too," Frank agreed. "And even worse than that, if I can be completely honest. But I really did see a mystery and I really would like to talk to you and Joe about it."

"Okay," Callie said. "But we have to work while we do it. We don't have too much time left before they open things up to the crowd."

"I know," Frank nodded. He coughed again and went to help set-up the computer systems donated for the sale. Most of them were beyond obsolete but maybe someone buy them for parts – or something else.

"Did you get Aunt Gertrude's bug?" Joe asked as he helped set a monitor on the table.

"Looks like it," Frank sighed. "She sneezed on me twice at supper."

"Yup, that did it!" Joe grinned impishly. "And here you are looking like a badly underdone potato."

"A badly underdone what?" Frank demanded. "And you think I'm sick!"

"You are," Joe agreed. "And you look like a potato, all blotchy and red-faced."

"Oh. A red potato," Frank agreed. "Do you want to see what I saw or not?"

"Yea," Joe settled another monitor on the table. "But I really think you should take your walking germ factory home before you make everyone here sick too."

Frank glared at his younger brother but lacked the energy he needed to make Joe pay for his impertinence. Frank sighed, coughed raspily again and motioned to Joe to be quiet.

"Gotta tell what I saw," Frank said. "You gonna listen or make jokes?"

Joe leaned forward and propped an elbow on a CPU. "I'm all ears. Go."

Frank told Joe about seeing the Gray Man and the diamond exchange. Joe whistled appreciatively and grinned.

"Think he has a hot new girlfriend?" Joe asked as he went back to shifting equipment. Callie swept through to put price tags on the systems and swept back out again without a word.

"Focus, sport," Vanessa, who now stood behind Joe, demanded. She smacked him on the back of the head.

"Hey! What'd you do that for?" Joe demanded.

"Because you're being a brat. Frank is sick. Be nice."

"Yes, ma'am!" Joe saluted and ducked another smack. Joe turned back to his brother.

"What do you think was going on? Did you recognize the guy Gray was with?"

Frank shook his head. "Don't know and no," he rasped. His throat really hurt and his stomach churned a little. "Don't know what possessed him to make the exchange in open at a church rummage sale. Don't know why he wanted the diamonds. Don't know where he went."

"We should find him and pound it out of him," Joe rubbed his hands together.

"Feel free," Frank motioned to the door. "He's all yours. Let me know how that goes, would you?"

Joe scowled.

"You could always find him and ask him, Romeo," Vanessa chided.

"My way is much more fun," Joe grinned and he sat down, pulled Vanessa onto his lap and kissed her thoroughly.

Frank made a face and looked away. Finally, he kicked Joe's chair, causing the couple to jump.

"Rent a room," Frank declared. "This is a church, remember? Back to work."

Vanessa, flushed a deep bread, hopped off of Joe's lap and went to help Callie. Joe grinned as he watched her for a moment before turning back to Frank.

"You going to be able to get home on your own?" Joe asked.

"Yeah," Frank stood to prove his point. "It's not that far."

"We can talk about the Gray Man tonight," Joe murmured. "Good luck, bro. Let me know how dad's battle with the lawn mower went. Was he having any luck when you left?"

"Nope," Frank grinned. "And mom was enjoying it quite a bit too."

"The domestic side of Fenton Hardy is a thing to be feared," Joe shuddered in mock horror. "I wish you the best of luck. I think I may stick out here aaaaaaall day, just to avoid the fun."

Frank stuck a tongue out at him, coughed again and reached into his pocket for his mom's keys. He went over to Callie.

"I'm going to leave, babe," he said to her as he kissed her cheek. "Sorry to leave early."

"Take your sick self home!" Callie ordered as she hugged him. She took his hand and walked with him toward the door and out to the parking lot to Frank's mom's car. "Call me when you get home so I know you made it, otherwise I'm going to worry!"

Frank promised, got into the car and drove off.

- - - - -

Slowly and cautiously, Frank drove home. Careful to keep his eyes open and on the road, he stayed several miles under the speed limit and conceded, to himself at least, that he should've stayed at home. After a short eternity he parked the car in the driveway of his house and collapsed into the seat, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Move, Frank," he ordered his body. "A few more steps and you can collapse on the sofa for the rest of the day. Mom can bring your orange juice and chicken soup and you can forget about the world for a day."

With that impetus Frank opened the door of the car and slid his legs out. He staggered shakily to the front door, opened it, and walked over to the couch, collapsing gratefully into its soft depths.

Taking a deep breath, Frank closed his eyes and relaxed. From outside he heard the familiar sounds of the lawn mower and he smiled as he remembered his father's earlier battle with the machine.

"Hello, sweety, are you feeling worse?" his mother asked him. Frank opened one eye to acknowledge her and nodded. Laura put a hand on his forehead, which he found cool and comforting and he nuzzled it.

"You have a fever, son," Laura announced. "Stay put, I'll be right back."

Frank closed the eye and relaxed again. He dozed off to sleep and woke slightly when he felt something cold in his ear.

"Hey!" he protested groggily.

"100.8," Laura announced. "Sit up for a minute."

Frank sighed and sat-up. Laura handed him two acetaminophens and a small glass with more orange juice. Frank forced the pills down his sore throat, coughed several more times. His mom handed him a small cup, which he swallowed without thinking.

"Mom!" he protested. "Nasty! Had some earlier."

"You need it. Now lay back down and get some sleep. Your dad and I will be quiet."

"Gotta call Callie," Frank reached for the phone. "Said she'll worry. Don't wan' her t'worry."

Frank took the phone from him and pushed him back down against one of the sofa pillows. "You sleep. I'll call."

Frank sighed, closed his eyes and went to sleep.

- - - - -

"… great warrior…" the woman's voice intruded into the otherwise blissful silence. Frank coughed and rolled over, pulling a blanket over his head. "Go wash up, oh great hero."

"At least I won," the male voice sounded superior. He heard laughter and, then, kissing? He pulled the blanket more tightly over him.

"You didn't toss the lawnmower into the trees or anything?" the female voice asked, the voice that was very clearly 'Mom.' "I'd hate to have to send you after it."

"I'm getting something newer," the male 'dad' voice declared. "And when I do that, I'm going to put the old one in a great big bonfire. Or maybe just bring it to a junk yard, put it in one of those big car mashers and enjoy the sensation of mashing into little bits."

Frank coughed again as footsteps went by down the hallway and into the downstairs bathroom. He drifted back to sleep.

-- -- -- -- --

"Frank? Frank, wake up a minute," someone was shaking Frank's arm. Frank opened his eyes and groaned as he saw his father, Fenton Hardy, standing over him. Frank blinked his eyes several times, trying to clear them but the smudge he saw on his father's face never went away. Frank sighed.

"Wha'?" Frank demanded. "Wanna sleep!"

"I need to ask you something, son," Fenton said. "Sit up for a minute."

Frank sighed but did as his father requested. He sat up and Fenton sat down beside Frank.

"Look at this," Fenton handed Frank a section of newspaper. "Isn't that Arthur Gray?"

Frank took the newspaper. He peered at the face in the picture and nodded.

"Yeah," he coughed miserably. "That's him. What's up?"

_The Gray Man's picture in the paper? Talk about a way to blow a cover!_ Frank leaned back.

"Frank," Fenton's voice sounded funny. Frank opened his eyes again.

"What?" he asked. "Dad?"

"It's a picture from an obituary," Fenton unfolded the paper, allowing Frank a better view. "Son, I'm sorry, but he's dead. The Gray Man is dead!"

End Chapter 2


	3. Chapter 3 Anchovies Do Not A Pizza Make

**The Network Mystery**

**By Cassidy Montague**

**Chapter 3 "ANCHOVIES DON'T A PIZZA MAKE"**

Frank stared blankly at the picture and just as blankly up at his father and back at the picture that he held loosely in his hands. The picture never changed and, in fact, looked more like the man Frank knew as the Gray Man than ever. He read the obituary provided with the picture and noted that the Gray Man died over a week ago from wounds sustained in an automobile accident.

Yet it made no sense. Frank saw the Gray Man earlier that day at the church. Frank knew he saw the Gray Man; there was no doubt of that. During the past year of their association with that mysterious man, Frank met up with him at least a dozen time in various capacities and got to know the man well enough to recognize him instantly on site, despite the man's ability to blend in with his surroundings.

"Not him," Frank said as he lay back on the couch. He pushed his dad off so he could have the length of the couch and Fenton moved to the top of the end table. He flopped his arm over his arms and burrowed back under the blanket that covered him. He shifted until he got into a comfortable position and sighed with contentment, even as he coughed several more times.

"What do you mean it's not him?" Fenton sounded incredulous. Frank sighed and moved his arm off his eyes so he could see his father. Fenton frowned, brown eyes intent on the picture in front of him and back at Frank again.

"Look, Frank," his father started to say. "I know you don't want to…"

"Saw him," Frank explained patiently and with as few words as possible. His throat really hurt now and talking became a chore he wanted to leave for another day. "At the church. He bought diamonds. Not him."

Frank flopped an arm toward the newspaper article his father held and closed his eyes again.

"What do you mean he bought diamonds?" Dad shook Frank's arm slightly and Frank sighed.

_Is there no rest for the tired, or sick, around this place?_ Frank groaned as he sat up again and took a drink from the glass of water behind his father on the table. The young man coughed a few more times and shifted uneasily before he found a comfortable sitting spot and leaned his head back.

"He bought diamonds," Frank said as clearly as his voice allowed. "I was at the sale at the church with Callie and Joe and Vanessa. I went to get a glass of water and I saw the Gray Man and another man. Gray handed a satchel to the other man and the other man gave him an envelope which Gray opened up enough that I could see the diamonds inside. Then they left. I followed. They both disappeared."

Frank took the obituary from Fenton and waved it at him. "Not the Gray Man. Can't be dead and in the church today. Probably faked his death to go undercover or something."

"Hmm," the noncommittal sound drifted past Frank as he started to drift off again_. Mmm, the couch was so comfortable. I can just go back to sleep and not worry about anything for the rest of the day. Wouldn't that be nice?_

"I think I'll look into this a little more," Fenton said to his son. "I can't figure why Gray would buy diamonds at a church rummage sale, much less in a place where you and your brother just happened to be. I think he wanted you to see him."

Frank's eyes popped open again. "Why?" he rasped and coughed several times. The spasms caused him to lean forward and cough harshly into his hands. "How'd… know we'd… there…" he asked.

"I don't know," Fenton admitted. "It's a puzzle and we'd probably have to find Gray to get an answer to it. The Network sure won't be opening up to us anytime soon."

"Put the thumbscrews to 'em, Dad," Frank murmured. "Lock him in a room with Joe and threaten to make him stay there and listen to Joe talk until he tells us what's going on."

Fenton laughed. "You're running a fever, Frank. Go back to sleep and try not to run any marathons today."

"Go 'way," Frank suggested as he burrowed back down into the couch, found his comfortable position and flopped his arm over his eyes again.

"Yes, your highness," Fenton laughed. "Have a good rest, son."

- - - - - - -

"Not a bad sale today!" Joe exclaimed as he looked around the fellowship hall of the church and saw that most of the tables were now empty. There were a few items left over, mostly clothing, shoes and a few pieces of kitchenware but just about everything else went. Joe grinned as he saw Callie and Vanessa counting up the proceeds from their tables. He left them in peace as he went over to the snack table and got one of the last brownies. Chewing on it, he went to get a leftover cup of fruit juice and then went back to the table.

"1,948 dollars and 52 cents," Callie grinned. "Not bad at all. I wonder how much everyone else made."

"I don't know but it looks like everyone did well," Joe said. "You practically sold the rafters in this place."

"That's what we want to replace, Joe," Callie said. "The roof needs repair, the rafters are damaged – all from that hurricane we had last year, remember?"

"How could I forget?" Joe shuddered in memory. Bayport didn't seem the type of town to suffer from such natural disasters but, located on the ocean as they were, one of the southern bred storms had actually made it this far north before hitting landfall. It had done its damage and then some.

"Looks like you're well on your way to getting it fixed up," Vanessa grinned. She threw an arm around Joe's waist and held onto the wandering young man. "Should we start cleaning everything up now, Cal?"

"If you don't mind, that would be fantastic," Callie nodded. "If we all work together we should be done in less than a half hour. Just make sure all the tables get wiped down, would you?"

"No problem," Vanessa agreed. Joe helped her wipe tables down before lowering the legs and carting them into the storage room where they belonged. It took them no time at all to get the leftover goods boxed up, the tables cleaned and stored and the floors swept and mopped.

"Whew," Joe leaned back against the wall behind him and crossed his arms as he looked around the large room. Now spotless, it was hard to believe that it had held a rummage sale only an hour before. He grinned over at his girlfriend and his brother's girlfriend, feeling satisfied and looking mischievous.

"How do you guys feel about going to find something more fun to do," Joe asked the two ladies. "I'm starving, for one."

"Joe Hardy, you ate five brownies, several cookies and at least three handfuls of peanuts. How can you still be hungry?" Callie demanded.

"I'm a growing boy, Cal," Joe stretched and motioned at the door. "I need more to keep me fed than a few snacks. I want something more wholesome, like a Mr. Pizza pizza. What do you say?"

Callie frowned. "You think Frank will be okay with that? He might…"

"Callie," Joe interrupted. "Frank is sick. He's not going to go all jealous on us if we go out to get some pizza. He doesn't get jealous, remember?"

Callie shrugged. "You're right, I know you're right." She smiled. "Race you to the car!"

Callie took off running and Joe gave Vanessa a startled glance before he took off running after her, laughing as he caught up and passed her just short of his van. "All right, my ladies," he called out. "Let's get going. My stomach is rumbling and my whole body is primed – for pizza."

He opened the sliding door so Callie and Vanessa could get inside, then slid the door shut and got into the driver's side. He turned on the radio to a local rock station and whistled along with the song as he drove down the road to the mall.

"What do you think about what Frank said he saw back at the church?" Callie leaned forward as far as her seatbelt allowed so she could speak to Joe. "Do you think the Gray Man was doing something wrong?"

Joe shook his head. "I don't know. Seems like a weird place to do a drop, though. I talked to a few people who were at the church and no one else saw the Gray Man."

"You don't think Frank was making that up do you?" Callie demanded hotly. Mercurial was such a good word to describe her, Joe thought with a grin. Cold one minute, hot the next.

"Nah," Joe shook his head as he passed a slowpoke on the road in front of him. "He wouldn't make something like that up, no matter how sick he is. It still seems like a strange place to buy diamonds. I mean, why? And why not do it a jewelry store, if everything is on the up and up?"

"I don't know. Maybe the guy had a better deal on diamonds and was going to be at the church anyway so he offered to make the exchange there," Vanessa offered as an idea. Joe considered it but finally shrugged and shook his head.

"That's one suggestion. We aren't going to know until we find the Gray Man and ask him. Or beat it out of him."

"That's my boy," Vanessa beamed. "Always thinking with his fists."

"You love me for my brawn," Joe complained jokingly. "And forget the keen intellect that goes along with it!"

Callie snorted but her brown eyes sparkled.

"Keen intellect is not quite the word I would use," Vanessa commented idly. "But if you'd like to use those words, that's fine with me."

"I knew I loved you for a reason," Joe said.

"Because I allow you you're delusions?" Vanessa grinned impishly. "Or because I'm sooo beautiful?"

"And modest," Callie laughed.

Joe laughed, for once enjoying Callie's presence. He knew they butted heads more often than not but he did appreciate her devotion to Frank.

_Maybe I'm growing up,_ Joe thought. _But it's nice to see that they're still happy together even though they've dated for so long. I suppose I can see her as a potential sister-in-law._

_Eventually. Not soon, though. I need more time to warm to the thought. But yeah. Eventually._

"Check out all that smoke!" Vanessa exclaimed from the second seat of the Van.

"Smoke? Where?" Joe stared out the windows, looking for any smoke in the area. Was something on fire?

"From your ears, baby, your ears," Vanessa leaned forward and managed to get a kiss on Joe's cheek. "You were deep in thought there for a few minutes. I thought maybe you grounded out a few gears."

"Oh, ha, ha," Joe sighed mournfully. He peered back at Callie through the rearview mirror. "I get no respect at all!"

"Aww," Callie teased. "You poor baby."

Joe finally found a decent parking place at the mall and all three of them filed inside, heading straight for their favorite pizza place. As he smelled the delicious smells of pizza wafting down from the restaurant his stomach grumbled in anticipation and he inhaled, heartily.

"Well, if it isn't Hardy, Shaw and Bender," Joe, Callie and Vanessa's good friend, Tony Prito, said. He leaned forward on the counter for a moment. "You seem to be a Hardy short."

"Hardy senior is out sick," Joe told Tony. "Poor guy caught Aunt Gertrude's virus and is out for the count. We, however, still have hearty appetites and need a special with the works."

"No anchovies on half!" Callie chimed, reminding them, unnecessarily, that she hated anchovies.

"Got it!" Tony said. He called into the back. "One full back special, hold the fish on half!"

Joe grinned and led the way to a nearby table. They managed to find a spot near the windows and Tony brought them all their usual drinks – water for the two girls and a large cola for Joe.

"Caffeine!" Joe inhaled the drink. "Just what I needed."

Vanessa shook her head. "You're delusional again, babe. Nobody needs caffeine."

"Says the girl who had four cups of coffee this morning," Callie reminded her friend.

"Four cups?" Joe exclaimed. "Geez! Did you save any for anyone else?"

"I needed a little pep me up," Vanessa admitted. "I was up late helping mom with her animation."

"I had to get up early to do something," Joe reminded them. "Oh yeah, work at a rummage sale. I'm surprised I didn't keel over halfway through."

Joe took a deep breath and inhaled more pizza scents. Now that they were so close to getting a pizza his stomach rumbled even more. Finally, he was saved when Tony laid a pizza on the table in front of them, filled with all kinds of meats, veggies and, on one half, anchovies.

"Enjoy," Tony said.

"Thanks, Tony. I thought I was gonna starve to death!"

Joe ate his first piece in about two minutes but took his time on his second piece. It took no time at all for the pizza to disappear, even though the two girls only had two slices apiece. Four was nothing!

"All right, let's you two home," Joe announced. "And I'll go see if my brother died yet or not."

Joe paid for the pizza and thanked Tony again, promising to get together with him the next week and he went with the two girls back out to the van. Once again he got the door for them and waited until they were inside before he slammed the door shut and went around to his own door.

Joe slid into his seat and was about to start the car when he saw a small slip of paper sitting on the dashboard of his van. Curiously, he opened it and read the scrawled note within the scrap of paper.

_Hardys,_

_Meet me at the train station, track b, midnight._

_Important. Come alone._

_AG_


	4. Chapter 4 And You Said

**The Network Mystery**

**By Cassidy Montague**

**Chapter 4 "And You Thought They Couldn't Be Taught."**

"Did you just hear that sound?" Vanessa asked Callie in a mock-awed tone as she read the message over her boyfriend's shoulder.

"Oh, yes, I heard it," Callie laughed as she leaned back into her seat and clicked her seatbelt shut. "It's a sound every person associated with the Hardys knows well."

"What?" Joe looked up from the message to peer at the two girls, especially the one beside him who started all the speculation. "What are you talking about?"

"The sound, Joe, the sound," Vanessa reminded him. "Baby, do you need your ears cleaned out again? A mystery just roared right into the station and if you quit paying attention it's going to smack you in the face. Again."

"Oh, ha, ha," Joe sat the message down on the console between seats and started the van. "You two are such comedienne's today, I'm surprised you haven't started your own road show."

Callie and Vanessa exchanged glances, laughing and Joe glowered, wondering what was going on between the two of them.

"You didn't hear the scuttlebutt, Hardy?" Callie leaned forward as far as the seatbelt allowed, which was just far enough to put her face right next to Joe's shoulder. "We're starting our own road show. We're just using you as our warm-up audience."

Joe shook his head as he steered out of the parking lot and headed toward the highway that would lead him out to where Callie lived. _You owe me big, big brother,_ Joe thought as he listened to the two girls laughing. _You owe me real big._

"So what do you think he wants?" Callie asked a few minutes later, unable to let the note go. Just as Joe suspected; she wanted in on another mystery!

"No idea," Joe shrugged. "Unless he knows that Frank saw him this morning and he wants to explain what he was doing. You know he doesn't like us getting involved in his little missions, I doubt he's just going to hand us a case. It's not his style."

Joe turned the steering wheel, sending the van down another street. He wanted to know the answer to that question too – namely, what the heck the Gray Man wanted with them. The man refused to treat he or Frank as adults so he doubted it was a case. Joe turned his attention to his driving and the neighborhood, mentally setting the note aside.

The streets on this block were lined with tall birch and oak trees, each of them standing straight and tall, slightly obscuring the houses behind them. An older section of Bayport, the houses in this neighborhood were built back in the fifties and were the homes of older families or second generation Bayport families. None of the houses were exactly huge but they would all have two or three bedrooms and sizable living rooms. Garages were detached and usually located behind the houses in back yards with long driveways leading past the house.

Callie lived in this neighborhood, in one of the slightly larger houses, meaning she had her own bedroom and bathroom and, if her parents had ever had another child, she would not have had to share her room. Joe knew, from many times spent in Callie's house, that the third bedroom was her mother's sewing room and her father's home office. They used the den downstairs as a dining room instead of an office.

"First stop, Shaw residence," Joe rang out. "You need help bringing anything into the house?"

"I'm good," Callie carried two bags she brought home from the sale. "Tell Frank to get better soon and to call me when he's feeling up to it."

"You betcha," Joe agreed amiably. He got out long enough to slam the sliding door shut behind her and waited until Callie was inside the house and flashed the lights twice to indicate everything was safe before he drove off again.

The road that led out to Vanessa's home ran along the coast of Barmet Bay, beginning at the waterfront and heading out of town. Located west of Bayport, with a cliff front on one side and a rolling hillside on the other, the road was no longer a favorite of travelers due to the opening of an Interstate that now ran past Bayport and toward nearby towns. Vanessa and her mother, Andrea, liked it that way, since it caused less traffic to go by their farmyard home.

Vanessa took the note off the console and looked at it, studying it with an intensity that caused her blue gray eyes to change to a more solid gray color. Joe grinned as he watched her out of the corner of his eyes, watching as she chewed on her bottom lip, idly twisting a lock of long blonde hair around a finger. Intriguing from the first day he met her, Joe liked her company even more now than he had that eventful few months previously when she came into his life.

"What?" Vanessa saw him watching her and she turned her attention to him.

"Nothing," Joe turned his attention back to the road. "Really, Van. I just like to watch you. You do this thing with your mouth and then your eyes…"

Vanessa paused a moment before she spoke. "A thing."

"Yeah," Joe grinned. "Your eyes go this really dark shade of gray when you concentrate. And when you're happy, really happy, they turn a brighter blue. I like to watch your eyes do that."

And just as he hoped, Vanessa's eyes went the brighter shade of blue and he smiled back at her.

"Are you saying my eyes are like one of those mood rings people used to wear all the time?" Vanessa blinked her eyelids at him.

"Nope," Joe said. "They're much more interesting than any old mood ring."

Vanessa settled back in her seat, the note propped on a knee.

"You aren't going to do something stupid like go by yourself if Frank is too sick to go, are you?" she asked Joe. "You could bring your father with you."

Joe shook his head. "No, I won't go on my own. Well, I would if it was anyone else but I don't exactly trust the Gray Man."

"Is that a mature response I detected from you?" Vanessa's eyes widened. "I'm stunned."

Joe laughed as he made the turn onto the one lane dirt road that led back to Van's house. He could already see the cars that belonged to Andrea and all of her associates, along with Van's broken down jeep. "Why don't I take a look at your jeep while I'm here?"

"You think you can fix it, be my guest," Vanessa agreed as she clicked her seat belt open. "Stupid thing won't start. I checked the battery."

"It may be something else," Joe said. He got out of the car and followed Vanessa up to where her jeep sat, the hood still propped open. Joe bent over the engine for a moment, wiggling wires and checking connections and hoses. A few minutes later he went around to the driver's side.

"Hand me your key a minute," Joe glanced up at his girlfriend. "Let me check something."

Dubiously, Vanessa dug into her pocket and pulled out the key to her jeep. Joe put the key into the ignition and turned it, listening.

"It's either your starter or your alternator," Joe said. "It won't cost too much to get it replaced. If you can get your mom to buy one I can probably change it out myself if you want."

"Nah, you have a case coming up," Vanessa wrapped her long arms around his shoulders, smiling. "Don't wanna distract the hero from his battle. I'll have Uncle Rick fix it."

Joe stood up so that he was standing just over his tall girlfriend and he smiled into her eyes. He wrapped his own arms around her and pulled her close, kissing her deeply. They were both quiet for a few minutes before they reluctantly parted from each other.

"I supposed I'd better get home and show the note to Frank," Joe sighed. "Call me later?"

"You betcha," Vanessa agreed as she took his hand into her own. "And you call me after you meet with the Gray Man. I want to know what's going on."

"I will," Joe agreed. They walked back to his van together and stood there for a few more minutes, kissing, before Joe climbed inside, started the ignition and with a last wave and a kiss of her hand through the open window, drove away.

--------

Joe found his brother laying on the sofa in the living room, snoring lightly, one hand thrown over his eyes and the other hanging off the edge of the sofa. On the nearby end table rested a box of tissues, a half-full glass of orange juice and a small medicine cabinet's worth of medications.

"Don't wake him!" Joe turned to see his mom standing behind him in the doorway leading into the hallway. She waved Joe closer. "He just went back to sleep a few minutes ago."

"How's he doing?" Joe asked. "Is he any better?"

Laura shrugged. "It won't get better in a single day, we both know that. Took your Aunt a week to shake this."

"She's older, ma," Joe peeked back at his brother. Frank hadn't moved at all. "He's young, he shakes things off fast."

"Perhaps but not in a few hours," Laura turned to go back into the kitchen. "Just let him sleep, Joe. It's what he needs right now."

Joe nodded and went down the hallway to his father's den. He knocked once at the half-open doorway and Fenton looked up at him from the newspaper spread across his desk.

"Hey, Pop," Joe exclaimed. "Enjoying your day off?"

"Sure," Fenton agreed heartily as he leaned back in his chair and swiveled back and forth. "Hard to know what to do with myself."

"Don't say that too loud, Dad, or mom will find something for you to do," Joe warned his father. Men had to stick together, didn't they?

Fenton grinned. "I was virtuous. I mowed the lawn, something I believe you boys are supposed to be doing?"

"OH, we do it," Joe agreed. "But we thought we'd like to prove your manhood again by conquering the lawn mower."

"Speaking of that lawn mower. How long has it been cantankerous like that?" Fenton peered out the window opposite where Joe stood, a satisfied smile on his face.

"Couple of years at least," Joe shrugged. "We've always gotten it to start so it wasn't a big deal. Still cuts the grass doesn't it?"

Fenton rocked his office chair back and forth, nodding. He swiveled around again, sending the chair into a full 360 before coming to a rest.

"You're making me dizzy," Joe laughed.

"So what's up?" Fenton asked him as he leaned forward again, propping both arms on the desk in front of him. Made of dark mahogany wood, it was large, substantial and heavy. Joe figured if they ever had another hurricane in town and the whole house blew away that desk would still be standing right here, in its spot. He loved this old desk, though. Fenton inherited the desk from Joe's grandfather who got it from Joe's great-grandfather and Joe hoped, one day, he would have it – if it didn't go to Frank as the older brother.

"Got a message," Joe said as he handed the note over to his father. Fenton read it, an eyebrow raising in surprise as he did.

"Look at this, son," Fenton motioned to the page of the paper in front of him. Joe turned the page so he could see it better and read an obituary for Arthur Gray. Joe blinked in surprise.

"That's… unexpected," Joe said.

"My," Fenton grinned. "You have such a way with words, my son. Teaching you lots in school, are they?"

"Hey, it's Saturday and I'm tired," Joe sat down in the nearest chair. "I got up early this morning, if you will recall."

"I got up even earlier," Fenton smirked modestly. "Virtuously too, I might add."

Joe snorted. "Right, Pop. And Mom had nothing to do with it."

"Of course not!" Fenton rocked again. "Now, back to this note, are you sure it's from the Gray Man?"

"Well," Joe shrugged. "I didn't see him put it in the van, if that's what you're talking about. Frank did see him earlier though, at the sale. Did he tell you?"

"Yeah, after I showed him this," Fenton motioned to the obituary. "Are you sure, though, that Frank really saw him? I mean, he's not feeling well."

"He's not hallucinating either," Joe said. "Seriously, Dad, we've learned to be cautious where the Gray Man is concerned. I'm not convinced we can trust him as far as either of us could throw him and never have been. But, then again, we have worked with him, reluctantly or not, and this might be important. It would be stupid to not follow it up."

"More stupid to not take precautions," Fenton reminded him. "And you know that Frank isn't going to be up to going."

"So you'll come with me," Joe shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. "You're a Hardy too. Note doesn't specify which Hardys to bring. You can pinch hit for Frank."

Fenton picked at something imaginary on his desk as Joe leaned back in the leather chair in which he sat, stretching. He yawned widely.

"Fine," Fenton agreed a few minutes later. "But only because I don't want you to go alone."

"Of course," Joe agreed. "Of course."

"We'd probably better not tell Frank about this until it's done. It would be almost impossible to keep him down if he knew."

Joe laughed. "That's an understatement, Pop. Why not tell me the world is round while you're at it."

Fenton glared balefully then smiled again. "Because, my son," he remarked casually. "Sometimes I do have to allow you to work out the little things on your own. I know how hard it is for you, but you can do it."

"Ha, ha," Joe got to his feet. "It is…"

His words were cut off by a crash from the front room and, a moment later, as if in terror, a scream.

"NO!"


	5. Chapter 5 How Come Things Are Never

**THE NETWORK MYSTERY**

**By Cassidy Montague**

**Chapter Five – "How Come Things Are Never Easy?"**

"I swear, if that was the neighbor's cat again, I'm going to drop kick it into the next country," Joe muttered as he and his father ran out of the den and down the hallway ot the front room. Their neighbor had an old cat, a rangy tom the size of a pit bull and just as ferocious who liked to yowl, holler and carry on at all hours of the night. Joe threatened several times to cause the cat, named Stimpy, severe bodily harm but never carried through on it.

"Didn't sound like the cat," Fenton said gravely as they both lurched to a stop in the living room and raised their hands slowly.

Two tall men in business suits stood near the front door, guns in hands, glaring menacingly at the occupants of the room. Laura stood by the doorway closest to the kitchen, a hand over her mouth as she stared at the gunmen. Her gaze flew to where Joe and his father stood watching the two gunmen.

"What's going on here?" Fenton Hardy demanded in his most no-nonsense voice, a voice Joe remembered from early childhood as his father's 'obey the cop' voice. The older Hardy took a step forward, drawing the attention of both gunmen and he wisely kept his hands in the air.

"Never mind that," one of the gunmen said. Accented, probably Russian or something like that, he motioned at both Fenton and Joe. "Stay where you are. I want you both to sit down on the floor, on top of your hands. If you do not obey, I will shoot the woman."

The gunman trained his gun steadily on Joe's mother and Laura flinched back slightly, her blue eyes large with shock and fear. Joe saw a small trickle of blood coming from her mouth and his eyes narrowed dangerously as he turned to look at the gunmen. One of them had already hurt his mom! Someone was going to pay big time for that!

Both Fenton and Joe slid to the ground, however and sat down on top of their hands, still glaring. A third man, one that Joe hadn't seen until now, came into his line of sight, carrying two large, plastic, garbage bags. He took them and placed one each over Fenton and Joe, taking a moment to tear a single hole in each one before Joe heard the strips being torn off a role of duct tape.

Oh good, Joe thought with a grimace. I'm being done up like a Christmas turkey.

Inside the back it was hot and suffocating and Joe would have struggled, hard, if he hadn't been worried for his mother. _And Frank? What's going on with Frank? Have they hurt him already? Damnit, get me out of this thing!_

The ends of the bags were slid under Joe's hands and brought up around the back and he was very tightly secured inside of the bag. He had to keep his head still so he could use the small hole that had been provided as ventilation in the bag.

Things went quiet until Laura screamed again, protesting. Joe heard more duct tape being torn off a roll and he swallowed nervously, starting to struggle now with his bag to break free.

"Do not move," the gunman who had spoken earlier said and Joe felt something hard pressed against his head. "Or I shall shoot you."

Things went quiet again until, a few minutes later, Joe heard the front door slam shut. Joe started struggling earnestly; pulling his hands up as best he could from underneath his legs while trying to tear at the plastic bag surrounding him. It was hard to gain any purchase on the stuff; he wished he could get to his pocketknife in his pocket. Joe heard grunting and squiggling near him, coming from his father as Fenton sought to gain purchase on the slippery plastic that surrounded him. Joe put more effort into his struggle with the duct tape and garbage bag, finally gaining a hold on his pocketknife.

It took no time at all after that to cut loose from the plastic and tape. Joe cut the bag into shreds, shuddering as he got loose and he pushed his hair out of his eyes to look toward his mother. She looked white-faced where she sat taped to one of the dining room chairs, a piece of tape over her mouth. Joe looked at the sofa where his brother had been lying earlier and he went dry-mouthed.

"Dad?" he said. "Where's Frank?"

Fenton, now loose from his own bag, was kneeling beside Laura and using the pocketknife to cut his wife loose. Joe frowned as he went through the dining room and kitchen and back into the living room again, a concerned expression on his face.

"They t-took him," Laura stammered when her mouth was free of the tape. "They were t-taking him when I screamed the first time. Why did they take him?"

Joe sped outside but saw no sign of the kidnappers, his brother or even a car that didn't belong out on the street. Their van and his parents cars were all parked in their spaces in the driveway and he recognized all of the other cars on the block as belonging to their neighbors.

"There's just nothing," Joe said softly as he came back into the room. His father held a phone in his hands and was talking rapidly to someone on the other end of the line. Joe blinked blankly at him before he realized his father was talking to the police about the attack and Frank's kidnapping.

"Are you all right, Mom?" Joe asked his mother in a soft voice. He sat beside her and put an arm around her shoulders, holding her gently as she wiped tears that fell down her cheeks. Blue eyes looked forlorn and hopeless as she leaned on Joe's shoulder and sought for comfort.

"I don't understand why they kidnapped him," Laura whispered softly as she shuddered. "He's sick…"

"It… he saw something at the sale today that I don't think anyone wanted him to see," Joe said softly. "It might have something to do with that. But don't worry, we're going to find him, I promise."

Laura nodded shakily and wiped her tears. She stood determined to put on a brave face and Joe smiled gently at her as he stood as well.

"What do we do first Dad?" Joe saw his father was off the phone and staring at the receiver, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Just tell me."

"For now we're going to wait to talk to the police," Fenton said. "And then we'll head out to that meeting. I want to fill Riley in on everything we've learned so far, including Frank seeing Gray."

Joe nodded. "I'll get the note. We can show that to him as well."

Fenton continued to stare at the receiver but finally sat it back down on its base and settled back on the couch again. He carefully folded the blanket that had been laid over Frank earlier and sat it on top of the pillow on the other end. The sofa was still slightly warm from Frank laying here all morning and Fenton rubbed at his eyes, trying to put some thought into what he would have to do.

"Did you both get a good look at the men who were here?" Fenton looked up at met Joe's eyes, then Laura's. Joe nodded.

"Totally," he agreed. "I've got their faces burned into my memory. No problem remembering them, I can promise you that."

"Good," Fenton said. "I remember them very clearly as well."

"They were wearing suits," Laura frowned as she looked at her husband. Joe saw that same determined expression on her face from earlier. "Nice ones. They… they reminded me of the F.B.I. agents you have worked with, Fenton. Federal agents. But why would Federal agents do what they did? Why would they take Frank?"

Fenton shook his head. "To be honest, I don't know. This wasn't normal procedure for any Fed I know, even in these days of the Patriot Act. Tying us up, taking Frank away without so much as a by your leave… it's all crazy. Of course, I've heard they've done worse with that."

"Gotta fight terrorism Dad," Joe said softly. "Whether it's right or wrong, they're doing what they THINK is right. And anyway, I don't think these were Feds at all. More like spooks – and they'll do anything they want."

Fenton nodded in agreement. "Right."

Laura got up and went into the kitchen as Joe reached out to grab the blanket that Fenton so carefully folded moments before. Joe held onto it a moment, remembering just how ill his brother had been and how much he wanted to rib someone's head off for causing Frank more harm.

The doorbell rang a few moments later and Fenton checked carefully before he opened the door and let Detective Con Riley into the house. The police detective was joined by two other people, a man and a woman who were introduced as forensics personnel – David Toddbury and Elizabeth Mathiesin.

"Let's go into the dining room and let them work," Con suggested softly as he motioned toward the nearby dining room with one hand. Joe knew that their friend had been to the house enough times in the past to know it well; it was the first time he'd really seen Con take control like this though. Joe went along, more numb now than anything. He stared at the couch again as they passed, like Frank would materialize suddenly on it again, safe and sound.

"I'm sorry," Con started off by saying as he settled into one of the seats. Joe's parents sat side-by-side but Joe went around to sit at the end. He needed distance or he was going to start hurting people. Frank was gone! "Okay, let's do this one-by-one. Who was on the scene first when things started?"

Laura leaned forward slightly, still pale, her normally coiffed hair in slight disarray and an ugly looking bruise beside her mouth. Joe vowed silently to make someone pay for the injury done to his mother.

"I was in the kitchen," Laura said. "Working on supper. F-Frank was on the couch. He came home early from the rummage sale earlier because he wasn't feeling well. He wanted to stay down where he could see the television but he didn't watch it very much, he slept a lot. I heard the door bang open and came out to see what was going on; I thought maybe he got up and went outside for something. There were three men h-here. One of them was grabbing Frank and I yelled something. Then Fenton and Joe showed up and they… they threatened to hurt me."

"They put those garbage bags over our heads," Joe muttered. "Like we were no more than trash to them. I'm surprised they left air holes in the bag, would have been an easy way to kill us off, I bet."

Laura paled even more and Joe clamped his teeth together, regretting his harsh words.

"I'm sorry Mom," Joe apologized and turned his attention back to Con. "I didn't mean to scare you more. They duct taped us in the bags; I could hear him tearing off strips from a roll. Then…"

"He made me sit in the chair, I tried to stop them from taking Frank. He was struggling but he really didn't feel well. They duct taped me to the chair and I couldn't move… I tried but I couldn't move!"

Laura wiped the tears that were falling as Fenton explained the rest of it – getting loose from the bags, about the obituary for Arthur Gray as well as Frank seeing the man that morning. Joe handed the detective the note he had gotten earlier that day.

"You think these might be related?" Con looked up from the Fenton to study the private detective's face. "That Frank seeing Gray has caused someone to want to kidnap him?"

"I can't think of any other reason at the moment," Fenton said. "At least not that would specifically target Frank instead of one of the rest of us. None of us are on a case at the moment; I'm on vacation actually and Joe and Frank – you weren't on a case, were you, Joe?"

Joe shook his head. "Nope, not for three weeks now. Too busy with school stuff."

Fenton nodded. "My gut says it's this business with Gray. I've never really trusted him or any of his… associates."

"You realize if it's one of the spook squads we may never find Frank, Fenton," Con said sympathetically. "I don't mean to scare you Laura but that's the truth with those underground agencies. They have ways and means mere mortals can't comprehend – or match."

"That's okay," Joe chimed in, a hostile expression on his face. "I'll find Arthur Gray myself and pound it out of him if I have to. We are going to find Frank."

Fenton nodded at Joe grimly but in agreement as well.

"So what about this meeting?" Con waved the paper. "Are you planning on going through with it?"

"Oh yeah," Joe said. "Now more than ever."

Fenton smiled at his son. "Together. Got it?"

"Got it," Joe leaned back in his seat. "I got it. And so will Gray."


	6. Chapter 6 Secret Agents and Bunny

**THE NETWORK MYSTERY**

**By Cassidy Montague**

**Chapter Six – "Secret Agents and Bunny Rabbits"**

"Calm down, Joseph," Fenton Hardy reached out a hand and grabbed his youngest son's shoulder, forcing the younger man to slow down his frenetic walking to stand beside him. The blonde haired youth turned slowly, his blue eyes focused on something in the distance for just a moment before he met Fenton's brown-eyed gaze. The detective waited a moment until he was sure that his son was fully with him before he spoke again.

"Just calm down, son," Fenton released the shoulder he held but kept Joe's gaze. The teenager took a deep, slow, long breath and Fenton saw the rigid tension in Joe's shoulders ease a little until his son stood more easily at his side and nodded. "We aren't going to do Frank any good by going off half-cocked, you know that don't you?"

"I know that," Joe agreed. "I know all kinds of things. Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens. I'm trying to think of all kinds of happy thoughts to calm down but they all lead me back to Frank and I remember he's gone and I tense up again. Lucky me, huh?"

"Huh," Fenton echoed. "Raindrops on roses… didn't you hate that movie?"

Joe shrugged and brushed a blonde curl out of his eyes. The younger boy stared pensively at his father.

"I despise that movie," Joe admitted casually. "But that damned song… sorry, darned song… got stuck in my head and I can't get it out. I might as well think of something just as innocuous – like bunny rabbits and baby birds. None of it works."

Fenton sighed and shook his head. "Maybe bringing you out here was a mistake."

"Maybe bringing me out here was the right thing," Joe countered in a steady voice. "After all, you need back-up just as much as I did and Sam isn't available."

Sam Radley, Fenton Hardy's partner, was on vacation in Bermuda for the next two weeks and there was no way Fenton was going to call him home when his wedding anniversary was coming up. Ellen Radley was a calm, patient and caring woman but she had her moments when some things were just too much, such as an absent husband for her wedding anniversary.

Fenton smiled, remembering his own tenth anniversary with Laura. Frank had been all of five back then and Joe had been about to turn four. They had persuaded Gertrude to stay with the boys – the start of a tradition around the Hardy house – and had gone off to a romantic cruise around Barmet Bay. Fenton still remembered how beautiful his wife was, dressed in a plunging v-line dress that took his breath away even now. A tenth anniversary was a special thing – Fenton would definitely hold off on calling in Radley, even with Frank missing.

_I'll just have to cope with the yelling later,_ Fenton thought. He knew for sure, too. When Radley got home and found out that Frank had been kidnapped, he would go ballistic that Fenton didn't call him.

Joe shifted uneasily on the pavement, his sneakers squishing slightly in a puddle as they walked slowly down the sidewalk toward the train station. This late at night it was deserted; there were no trains expected in or out for several hours and they would have it all to themselves – hopefully – during the meeting with Gray. Fenton wondered just what was going through his son's mind – Joe was quiet and apprehensive, both unusual states for his youngest. Used to kinetic energy and a forceful personality from the blonde-haired boy, quiet seemed unnatural and a little gut wrenching.

Fenton vowed to find Frank – in one piece – if it killed him. Not only for himself and for his mother, but for the young man walking beside him. Joe wouldn't cope well if something happened to Frank. Not that he would either but Joe…

_Stay alive, Frank,_ Fenton thought again.

"You remember that rabbit we found when I was… I think I was about eight?" Joe asked his father a few minutes later.

_Back to rabbits again?_ Fenton thought. He cast his memory back to the past and did, indeed, find a memory of the boys finding a rabbit in the backyard. Joe, all tousle headed and excited, bounced happily beside Frank who held a soft ball of fluff in his hands. The dark-haired boy sat their prize on the table and Fenton remembered seeing the sorriest excuse of rabbit-hood he'd ever seen.

"I remember," Fenton said out loud.

"Frank didn't want to bring it in," Joe said softly. "He said the rabbit wouldn't be happy indoors, that it was an outdoor rabbit. I kept badgering him, though, until he'd bring the rabbit inside and he did. And then the rabbit bit Aunt Gertrude on the finger and we had to take it and Aunt Gertrude to the hospital to get them both checked for rabies."

"Yeeeeees," Fenton drew the word out into a slow hiss. "I do remember that. Why are you thinking of that now?"

"I don't know, really," Joe sighed forlornly. "I just got to thinking about rabbits and I remembered that one. I wanted to name it Fluffy since it was all fluffy but I didn't get a chance."

Joe looked over at his father again and stopped walking.

"I just don't want what's going on with Frank to turn out like what happened to Fluffy," Joe stuffed his hands into his pockets. "And I hope he bites them. Hard."

Startled, Fenton laughed. "He just might, son," Fenton continued to smile. "He just might."

Joe looked around the station and motioned to Track B. "We're here. Where's Gray at?"

Fenton looked around as well and saw no sign of the older agent. He put his hand into his pocket, fingering the revolver he carried there and he motioned to Joe.

"Stay close to me, son," he ordered. "I'm starting to get a really funny feeling about this."

"You think Gray might be behind Frank's kidnapping?" Joe stepped closer to his father, obeying instinctively. "That this is all a trap of some kind?"

"It might be," Fenton admitted. "So we're going to have to be twice as careful."

Joe shivered slightly and drew his jacket more tightly about himself. Fenton stepped forward slowly, leaving the gun in his pocket but ready to pull it at any moment. He stopped walking when he saw the shadow of a man near the wall on the other side of Track B and he walked cautiously toward the shadow.

"Gray?" he called out softly. "Come out. We're here."

"I was expecting Frank and Joe," Arthur Gray stepped out of the darkness, his shadow receding as he walked forward. "Not you."

"I'm a pinch-hitter," Fenton narrowed his eyes at the agent. Dressed in his usual non-descript gray clothing, Arthur Gray looked years older than the last time Fenton saw him. His hand shook slightly with the cold and the jacket the older man wore looked too light to deal with the cool air. "What's going on?"

Gray looked around, a cautious expression on his face. "I wanted to tell Frank to forget he saw me this morning," Gray said. "That if he tells anyone what he knows – if any of you tell anyone what you know – you could all be in danger."

"It's a little late for that," Joe glared hostilely at the agent, smacking one hand into the other. It made a sound that caused Gray to jump just a little and step backward. "As if you don't know."

"Joe," Fenton warned his son, holding his hand and making a step back motion to the youth.

"What is it I don't know?" Gray demanded as he slumped further into the rumbled jacket. "I'm afraid I'm out of the loop at the moment."

"Frank was kidnapped today," Joe retorted hotly. "Right from our house. Three gunmen came in, scared my mother half to death, tied all of us up and took Frank, right from the house. Three men in business suits. Your agents I bet."

"If they are I know nothing about it," Gray stepped forward, an angry expression on his face. "I'm out of the loop right now. Persona non grata. There's a shoot-to-kill order out there. Any agent who sees me will do me in immediately. You won't have to worry about killing me yourself, Joseph. My fellow agents will be more than happy to do it."

"Why did they take Frank?" Fenton said. "I assume you have some reasoning for that."

"I don't know," Gray said. "I didn't tell a soul that I know he saw me at the church this morning. I left the note on the front seat of the van when it was at the mall and let it go. The only thing I can think of is they're watching you. They may have overheard one or all of you talking about it. Since Frank was the only person who actually saw me, well, he's the one that they wanted to take. He'll be able to tell them about the diamonds…"

"Yeah, Gray, what about those diamonds?" Joe demanded as he smacked his hands together again. Fenton glared at his son. "Have a sudden urge to buy illegally obtained diamonds?"

"I do if I want to clear my name," Gray said. "I do if I want to have any chance to live through this whole thing."

Joe shook his head. "I don't believe a word you're saying. I think you took Frank for your own reasons and you're either going to kill him or use him for your own purposes. I've seen what you do with agents!"

Fenton held out a hand to his son again, making a calming motion. Joe sighed and shook his head.

"Fine," he said. "Just fine."

Fenton turned back to Gray. "My son, while sometimes a hothead, has a few valid points. You haven't exactly proven yourself to be trustworthy in the past, Gray. You've damned near gotten my sons killed more than once in the past and I know you'd do anything you have to if it meant getting what you want or need. Taking Frank may be part of some sick game you're playing. What assurance do we have that it isn't?"

Gray glared at him and crossed his arms angrily.

"What kind of proof do you want?" Gray demanded. "Do you want someone to shoot me? Is that going to prove to you I'm being sincere? I don't exactly have proof."

Fenton shrugged mildly. "Then it seems we're at a standstill. My first thought here is to take you into the police station and let them question you."

"Then you might as well take that gun you're carrying and shoot me now," Gray retorted. "Because it will have the same effect!"

"Okay," Fenton said. "Can you help us find Frank? If your people – or one of the other agencies – has him, then we don't have a hope on our own of getting him back anytime soon."

Gray sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I might be able to help," he admitted. "But I'm going to have to be very careful about what I do and you can't be dogging me the whole time. I do have a place for you to start, however. There's a building on the outskirts of town that's owned by the Network – at least if you trace ownership far enough it's owned by the Network. 19198 Prince Henry Boulevard. Know where that is?"

"I know the area," Fenton said mildly.

"Then you might start there. But be careful, they have the place wired six ways from Sunday."

Fenton nodded. "Fine. And what will you be doing?"

"Getting a large weight off my back. I've got a few people I can still trust, I'll find out what I can from them. In the meantime, do NOT mention to anyone that you saw me. If you do, they could come after you as well. I'm surprised that they didn't take all of you."

"Of course they didn't take all of us," Joe said. "After all, if they took me or Frank, or both of us, Dad's busy running around trying to find Frank but leaving them alone. If they take Dad, though, or the whole family, then they get every alphabet agency out there and a few people haven't heard of down on them like wet on rain. Speaking of which Dad, why don't we have your contacts helping out?"

Fenton said nothing in answer that. He merely regarded his son with a good-natured smile and Joe desisted.

"Boys," Gray said suddenly as he drifted back toward the shadows. "Be very careful. The men who have taken over the Network are not nice people and they are out to cause real damage. Whatever you do, look over your shoulder at all times."

Fenton nodded. "Naturally."

Gray disappeared into the shadows and darkness a moment later, leaving Fenton and Joe on their own. As father and son continued back toward their parked car, Joe turned to his father, a half-amused smile on his face.

"Do you trust him?" Joe asked softly.

"Not as far as I can throw him," Fenton admitted. "But it doesn't mean I'm going to ignore any possible leads he gives us. I'm – we are just going to be cautious when we do it."

Joe grinned. "Let's go find Frank, dad."

"Let's do," Fenton agreed.

It was so crowded where he lay. And cold.

Frank coughed and sniffed as he huddled into a tighter ball and tried to get warm. It felt like the whole world was moving around him and his stomach complained as he was jostled and jiggled and waggled all over the place. Something smelled bad, too, and there was something hard underneath his right hip.

Frank moaned and regretted it; a fiery pain took place of the scratchy ache in his throat and he huddled even more tightly as he tried to ease the pain, ease the cold, get comfortable.

What happened to his nice warm couch?

Unable to stay awake, Frank drifted off again into a cold, uncomfortable, sleep….


	7. Chapter 7 Man Your Battlestations

**THE NETWORK MYSTERY**

**By Cassidy Montague**

**Chapter Seven – "Man Your Battlestations"**

"But can the two of you do this alone? Shouldn't you call Sam back from vacation?" Laura Hardy's blue eyes changed expression quickly, from worry, to grief, to pain, to a flash of anger and back to worry again as she settled back into her favorite settee in the Hardy living room, a cup of hot tea in one hand. She rocked slightly, anxious and grieved for her older son. "Can you find Frank by yourselves with these… these people involved?"

Joe exchanged a glance with his father but said nothing as he sipped at his can of soda and continued to jot down notes on a pad of paper resting on the table in front of him. Frank had an amazing capacity for storing all kinds of minute information in his head but Joe was more confident with having it written down. He might remember it all, he might not, but if he had a written record he could keep track of everything.

"For now we have to," Fenton assured Joe's mother, his voice calm. Joe watched Fenton lean forward and gently put an arm around Laura's shoulders, hugging her to his chest before he kissed her. "I'm not saying this is going to be easy, honey. I don't even know who all of the players are in this little… mystery. I do know it would take at least a day for Sam to get back here from where he is and I hate to cut things short when they're on their anniversary. Would you want to do that to Ellen?"

Laura sighed and shook her head miserably. Joe watched her fight to maintain her composure but he knew just how troubled she was. She wanted Frank home and right now!

_Not that I don't,_ Joe thought with a miserable sigh of his own. _He's sick. He should be home, in bed, not out being kidnapped and mistreated. Damn them for doing this to us!_

"Is this… this man you both met with… is he going to help?" Laura sat her cup down on the table beside the settee in a controlled manner but her voice contained a fierce note to it. "Is he going to do something to fix the trouble that he has created?"

Joe looked up from his note writing in time to see his father shrug again.

_That'll be the day,_ Joe thought, but said nothing. It was best to let his father deal with his mother's anxieties. _The Gray Man has never been trustworthy. I can't believe I was so stupid as to ever trust that creep!_

"I don't know how much he **can **help," Fenton admitted in a soft voice. "He's rather on the run himself, having to lay low. He doesn't have the contacts he used to have or he wouldn't be in so much trouble himself. I do take it personally he dragged our family into his little mess, though. I would bet any amount of money you care to wager he planned that buy at the church just so either Frank or Joe would see him."

"That bugs me," Joe said suddenly as he looked up at his parents. He had written it down on his sheet of paper as a question but he wanted to voice it, to hear his parents' ideas. "How did anyone ever know that Frank either saw the Gray Man buy those diamonds? Do you think someone has been watching Gray the whole time, despite that obituary?"

Fenton nodded. "I think he either knows more than he's letting on or he's in much worse trouble than he thinks. Which, unfortunately, makes me wonder if there was someone watching him at the train station when we met with him."

Joe bit on his lower lip in worry for a minute. _Great, hadn't thought of that one_

"Love, I hate to do this to you," Fenton said to his wife. "But I'm putting you and Gertrude into protected custody until we figure out what's going on. I have to work it all out before you can go but I… I don't want to have to worry about both of you while we're looking for Frank. We don't know who these people are but it's possible they could use you as hostages later on, to get us to do something we don't want to do and I just can't take that chance."

"Where do you want us to go?" Laura asked fretfully. "I don't want to be too far Fenton, in case something goes… wrong."

"I have some ideas on that," Fenton admitted. "I think I want you to go visit Adrian and Penelope."

"The Colonel and his wife?" Laura demanded. "In London?"

Fenton nodded. "I don't really know who to trust in the U.S. At least we know the Sampers are trustworthy. You can visit them, go shopping, have tea… you would be safe with them."

Laura let out a puff of air and Joe wondered if she was going to balk about going overseas. Fenton waited patiently but finally Laura nodded in acquiescence. "All right," she agreed softly. "Okay."

"Good," Fenton smiled and gently kissed her forehead. "Go pack. I need to go use the secure phone."

Fenton stood and went down the hallway to his office and Joe went back to making notes on his pad of paper. He looked up a moment later when Laura approached and gently touched his back.

"You'll be careful?" she asked softly.

"Yes, ma'am," Joe agreed solemnly as he made a little cross over his heart. "I want Frank back too Mom. I have to be careful to do that."

Laura nodded uncertainly, blue eyes filled with concern. Joe knew she worried for him; he was impetuous and often a bit hardheaded but he knew the gravity of the situation. He would not do anything to make the situation worse, whatever it took.

"I'm holding you to that, Joe," Laura gently kissed his cheek. "I'd better go pack and break the news to your aunt."

Joe nodded and went back to his note making.

_The items on his list weren't long._

_Explore warehouse._

_Find clues in warehouse._

_  
Rescue Frank if he's there._

_Gather a list of suspects._

_Get info on the Network._

_Find out what the Gray Man is up to._

_Find out who sold the diamonds._

_  
Find out why they were sold._

_Hurt bad guys for hurting Frank._

Joe didn't think he really needed that last one on the list. He was pretty sure he could remember that little item all on his own but it felt a little cathartic to write it down. No matter what else, finding Frank was the most important thing and the idea most vivid in Joe's mind. Above all, find Frank.

Joe leaned back in his seat and stretched, listening to the bustle of activity from above as his mother and his aunt packed. He half expected Aunt Gertrude to fly down the stairs at any moment and confront his father about going off to London – but then she always loved a visit with the Colonel and Mrs. Sampers. Perhaps she decided it wasn't so bad to get sent off without a by-your-leave.

Stretching again, Joe got to his feet and went into the kitchen to see what kind of supplies they had on hand. He wasn't really very hungry but he knew the necessity of eating to keep your strength up.

_Not that Frank can eat right now,_ Joe slammed the refrigerator door closed and leaned against it_. I doubt the bad guys care he was so sick he could barely breath. I bet they don't care a wit that he's ill and whatever they're doing to him will make it worse. Why couldn't they have taken me?_

Joe slammed a fist against the refrigerator and heard a crash inside of it. Not caring, he turned away and went back into the living room. He touched the couch where Frank last lay and closed his eyes for a moment. He had not been present when Frank was actually taken away but he could still picture the scene too vividly.

"I got your mom and aunt a flight on a plane that's leaving in two hours," Fenton said to Joe. "Con Riley is going to take them to the airport and wait with them until the plane leaves; he can get to the gate whereas I would have to go through a lot of red tape. When they've gone, we'll go over our plan of attack."

Joe nodded. "Did you get a hold of the Colonel?" he asked.

"Yeah," Fenton settled down in his recliner. "They're more than happy to have your mom and aunt for as long as they need to stay. The Colonel says Penelope has been bugging him for a visit to see them for some time so he hopes this satisfies her for a bit."

A wide grin broke on Joe's face. "I hope your credit cards are up to date, Pop. You know how Mrs. Sampers loves to shop. She always drags mom and aunt Gertrude right along with her when she does it."

Smiling tolerantly, Fenton agreed. "Well, it makes them happy and they don't do it often. I suppose the ole bank account will recover in time."

The moment later there was a brief knock on the door and, after checking the peephole to see who was on the other side, Joe opened the door to reveal Con Riley on the other side, looking trim in a pair of jeans, a dark blue polo shirt and a brown leather flight jacket.

"Riley protection service, at your service," Con Riley's lips turned upward in a quirky smile as he stood with his thumbs hooked in the belt loops of his jeans. He smiled widely, looking pleased with himself and his attempt at humor. "You got ladies what needs my protection?"

Matching Riley's smile with a smile of his own, Joe stepped up to shake the detective's hand. "You got the right place, Mack. The ladies should be down in a minute. Sure you can handle 'em? They're both tough hombres."

Riley made a show of thinking it through, even to the puzzling expression momentarily on his face then he nodded exaggeratedly. "I think I can handle the mission. Two tough hombres to the airport and onto the plane. I can do that."

"You're hired," Fenton, standing in the doorway that went into the hall behind the living room, laughed. "I'm sure you might wish you hadn't been before this mission is done. Hey!"

Fenton protested when he received a firm whack to the backside of his head from Joe's mother as she wandered through, carrying a large suitcase in one hand.

"Told you they were tough," Joe grinned. "Like ole boot leather, the both of them."

Laura delivered another sound thwack to Joe's head and Joe laughed, pulling his mother into a close hug and kissing her on the cheek.

"You'll be careful, right Mom?" he asked her.

"I'm the one going to safety," Laura gently stroked his arm. "I'll be fine. You're the one that had better be careful. I want you both to stay in one piece. Got it?"

"We got it," Fenton moved to Laura's side and pulled her into his arms. Joe looked away when he saw them about to kiss and he waited a moment before turning back to see them still kissing. Blushing he looked away again, staring steadily at the ceiling until they were finally finished.

"Geez, guys, rent a room already," Joe demanded when they parted. "Guy can't wander around his house without seeing his parents smooching all over the place. I'm going to be abused for life you know."

"You have an objection to two loving people kissing a little Joe?" Fenton asked his son in a curious voice. "I've seen you with Vanessa you know."

"Yeah, well, that's different," Joe protested. "She's my girlfriend. You're parents. Eww."

Laura laughed. "Sometimes you seem to be about five years old, Joe. Now be good for your father and stay out of trouble. Stay safe. Both of you. Got it?"

"Yes ma'am!" Fenton and Joe both pulled off perfect salutes. Joe kissed his mother's cheek again and turned to Gertrude.

"You okay, Auntie?" he asked her softly.

"I, young man, am fine," Gertrude said. "For being bundled off without being asked."

She rounded on Joe's father in an instant. "Just be grateful I have wanted to go visit Penelope and Adrian for some time, Fenton, or you would get the backside of my tongue for disrupting my plans for the week. You just better be sure to have us home as soon as possible. Don't do anything foolish while we're gone."

"Never, Gert," Joe's father grinned as he kissed his sister's cheek and guided both ladies to the front door. "Go on with you now."

Riley stopped at the door after the ladies left. "I'll call you when their plan has left, to let you know they got off okay. I let the chief know I was doing this, too, so if you don't hear from me before three hours are out, give him a call and let him know. We should be fine though."

Joe's father agreed and shook hands with the younger man. "Thanks again, Riley."

"Sure," Riley nodded as he went out the door. Fenton and Joe waited in the door until the car was out of sight before they closed it and went back into the house.

"What first?" Joe asked his father.

"Come with me," Fenton said. He led the way back into his office and motioned for Joe to take a seat where he could see the monitor on Fenton's computer. Fenton's fingers were nearly a blur as he tapped onto the computer's keyboard, bringing up screens that Joe leaned forward to study.

"This is the Pan-dem warehouse on Prince Henry Blvd," Fenton said as he pointed to the warehouse in question. Fairly large, two stories with multiple truck bays located along the back of the building, it looked a little run-down and… old. The information on the screen said the building had only been built about eight years before but obviously it hadn't been very well cared for, as if people didn't care if it looked good or not.

"It says the building is empty," Fenton commented as he read ahead on the screen. "And that it's been empty for nearly two years. I have some photos, though…"

He used the mouse to bring up several new screens in smaller windows, showing Joe satellite imagery with infrared detection.

"Obviously it's not as empty as they would like us to believe," Fenton motioned to the outlines of several people inside of the building. "It's always possible it's squatters – rather homeless people who have made the warehouse a home but somehow I don't think that's the case. If it's a Network front, they may want us to believe it's empty and it's even more possible that all this is a front."

"How'd you get those pictures?" Joe asked curiously. "Those aren't standard issue, that's for sure."

"I have friends," Fenton shrugged. "I called them as soon as we got back to have them start getting me what I needed – discretely. We were just lucky that one of the satellites was close enough to get these pictures."

Joe frowned as he touched the screen, indicating a cluster of outlined images in one section of the warehouse.

"Looks like there's a gathering of people here. Think this is where they may be holding Frank?"

Fenton shrugged. "I don't know. It gives us an idea of where to start though. I'm going to print these off; it'll change, of course but with the map I have of the building it might help us navigate the place a little better. We'll want to find that corner – it's northwest – first."

"What if we get caught? Do we have a plan to get out of that?" Joe asked. That was not usually his question – Frank was the cautious one – but Joe was ever conscious of Frank's absence and the need for deliberation. If Joe and his father were to get caught, there wouldn't be anyone to rescue them – at least not for a while.

"I gave the man I contacted a code word," Fenton said. "If I don't call and give that to him two hours after we leave he'll put plans into motion to get us out, one way or the other. Don't ask anymore questions about that, I can't tell you more."

"What if something happens to you though?" Joe demanded.

"If I can't personally call him then that means we'll need more help. Just trust me Joe. Okay? We obviously can't leave until tonight, I'd rather do this when it's dark out again and we've both gotten some sleep. Let me get the alarms set around the house – the phone will wake me up when Riley calls."

Neither Joe or Fenton got any sleep after getting back from the meeting at nearly 2:00 in the morning. They had stayed around the train station for a few minutes, looking around to make sure there was no one in the area watching them – and even then they had not been totally positive they were in the clear – and then making their way back to Fenton's car.

Joe was too keyed up to sleep when they got back; he wanted to start looking for Frank right away and even had wanted to go to that warehouse but Fenton's caution won out.

Tonight seemed a long way away and the things that could go wrong between now and then boggled Joe's mind but he dutifully nodded and went up to his room.

Just as he thought he would never be able to sleep in the daylight, that he was too keyed up to sleep, that he wanted to be doing something and not laying around, his body took control and he was asleep in moments.


	8. Chapter 8 Which Way Did the Plot Go?

**THE NETWORK MYSTERY**

**By Cassidy Montague**

**Chapter Eight – "Which Way Did the Plot Go?"**

A harsh cough wracked Frank Hardy as he struggled to catch his breath and breath through the throat-cracking pain that came with the cough. For several minutes he lay in agony, uncomfortable on a pile of old blankets against the wall in a drafty room as he concentrated merely on breathing, in and out, in and out, focusing only on that small movement until he felt more in control. Frank shivered with cold; the room was not heated and even though it was early autumn outside it was cold in here.

Frank's illness-fogged brain caught onto little beyond the fact that he wasn't at home, that he didn't know where he was and that he felt like crap. Other little points eluded him, like how he had come to be here, like where his nice warm, comfortable sofa was. Frowning with the effort to remember, he winced when he coughed again and felt the force of it in his throat again.

"Ouch," he gasped, or tried to. It came out more as a raspy moan than anything else and he shivered in pain.

Frank struggled for a moment and got into a sitting position and leaned on the cold wall behind him. He grabbed one of the ratty blankets on the ground and wrapped it around his legs and closed his eyes again, determined to go back to sleep and wake up from this very strange dream a little later.

"Kid," a gruff voice said to him. "Wake up, kid."

Frank's eyes popped open and he looked up into the face of a man wearing a black mask and dark sunglasses. How in the world did he see anything in here with those dark glasses on? Frank studied the glasses for a moment and his eyes widened with surprise a moment later when he realized the man wasn't wearing normal sunglasses. Those sunglasses saw the infrared spectrum!

_Way cool,_ Frank thought fuzzily. _Very cool!_

The black-clad man knelt beside the dark-haired boy and studied him for a moment and Frank coughed a few more times, eventually collapsing back against the wall again for support.

"How long you been sick kid?" the black-clad man asked.

"Since… 'morning…" Frank rasped. "Woke up… w'it…"

"And you were out at the church watching illicit diamond purchases?" the man demanded in a much rougher voice than before.

"Helpin'… sale…" Frank hated talking. The effort really hurt his throat and he sounded like crap. "Why… here?"

"I'm asking the questions here, Kid," the man declared loudly. Frank winced and held his hands to his ears. It wasn't necessary to yell! "You were out helping at that sale when you were sick."

It was more a statement than a question but Frank nodded anyway.

"Why?" the man asked.

"Girl…friend… need…ed… me…" Frank gasped. He wanted to curl up very badly and go back to sleep. "Promised. Had to… help."

"And while you were there you saw Arthur Gray buy the diamonds," this was also not a question but more a statement of fact. Frank shrugged, though.

"Dunno," he said. "Saw an… 'bit-ry. Said he's dead. Must not… been Gray…"

The man got closer to Frank, grabbing the sick young man's shoulder and shaking him a bit.

"Don't play games with us Kid," the man demanded hotly. Frank looked up at him, exhausted and sick, not really caring. "We know what you saw. We know you were there."

"Then why… asking me?" Frank demanded. "Don't… care."

"You would though," the man hissed. "You would if you were better and you would be sticking your nose in where it doesn't belong. We know all about you and your brother. You like to meddle."

"They'll… find me…" it was a simple statement of fact, one that Frank knew well. His brother and his father would look for him and find him. That's how it always worked. His brain was waking up and he was aware now that he'd been kidnapped – obviously for what they thought he knew about the diamonds.

"They'll try," the man pushed Frank back. "We know that you've had… associations… with Gray before. We want to know everything you have ever done for him. Where he might stay if he was Bayport."

"Don't know," Frank rasped. "Never knew he stayed… long. Lives in… D.C… I think. Doesn't like us. Doesn't tell us much. Thinks we can't be trusted. Keeps at arm's length all the time."

"You know about the Assassins," the man stated.

Frank shrugged. "Course," he said. "No secret. Killers. Terrorists. Bad guys."

The man grunted. "And your friend, Gray, was buying diamonds from them. Why?"

Frank's eyes popped open again in surprise and the man grunted again. "Didn't know that was an Assassin you saw, did you?" he asked.

"Don't know… many Assassins. Never got on… first name basis. Tried to kill us though. More than once. Killed… my brother's… girlfriend… in our car."

It still pained Frank to think of Iola Morton, killed when a bomb in his and Joe's car went off. Iola didn't deserve to die.

"Never knew about them before that," Frank admitted. "Assassins. Just knew they wanted us dead. Wanted to kill Senator Walker. Had to save him too. They didn't like that. Keep playing games with us."

The man knelt again, studying Frank intently, as if trying to discern the truth.

"And what about Gray?" he asked again.

"Thinks we meddle," Frank repeated. "Doesn't like us but will use us if he needs to. Doesn't trust us. Nearly gotten us killed more than once. My dad doesn't like him at all."

The captor smiled. "We have something in common then. I don't like him either."

Frank rewarded the man with a brief shrug. The man grinned.

"Sorry we had to do things this way, young Frank," the man said. "And I know you're sick. I have reason to believe that you were going to be killed by the Assassins for what you saw. We had to take you to make sure that your father would take the appropriate actions, see to the safety of your mother and Aunt. I'm pretty sure they'll be here later on to try to find you. I haven't decided if they will yet."

Frank frowned as he sat up. He was feverish, coughing, aching, his throat hurt and his lungs felt heavy. Breathing was an effort and staying awake was starting to elude him again.

"I'll get you some medical help now, Frank," the man said softly. "You'll be better in no time. Now let's go."

Frank stiffened as the man bent to help him to his feet. He hung on tightly as he was led out of the dark cold room and into a brighter hallway. He shielded his eyes with one hand and held on as best he could as he was brought into a much nicer room down the hallway.

The man laid him down on the bed in the room and ordered him under the blankets. It was so warm and cozy that Frank did as he was ordered, not caring, for the moment, that he was in the lair of a possible enemy. Coughing, he bent over the side of the bed for a moment until he was able to spit into a bowl placed beside the bed and he collapsed back weakly and fell into a troubled, cough-filled sleep.

NETWORKMYSTERYNETWORKMYSTERYNETWORKMYSTERYNETWORK 

Joe jerked awake around mid afternoon, his stomach grumbling and he looked around his room in confusion for several minutes before he rubbed at his eyes and swung his feet off the bed. Sitting up, he looked around, trying to remember where he was and why he had either slept so late or just now waken up.

It only took moments, brief flashes of memory formed in his mind as he remembered Frank's kidnapping, the meeting with the Gray Man, sending his mother and aunt to London and going to bed so that he and his father could storm the Bastille and free the prisoner inside – his brother Frank. Joe blinked for a moment and rubbed at his eyes again; he hated throwing off his sleep schedule like this. It felt like he arriving on the other end of a long trip that resulted in jet lag and he always hated the disorienting feeling that brought.

Joe got up and padded to the bathroom he shared with his older brother. He splashed water over his face and brushed the grit out of his teeth, grimacing when he remembered not brushing them before bed. He hated the feeling of gritty teeth when he woke up.

He took a few minutes cleaning up and waking up before he went out to find appropriate clothing for the nights venture, namely dark clothing and a baseball cap to hide most of his blonde hair from view. Joe often envied his father and brother their dark hair, if only because it made skulking about in shadows easier. Mashing his hair under a hat never gave Joe any confidence at all and it took forever to comb out later.

Nothing, however, was too good for his brother so if he had to mash his hair for a while, he would. Joe got dressed in the dark clothing, a pair of jet-black jeans and a black long-sleeved tunic. Joe looked at himself in the mirror and nodded with satisfaction. He might have to put some soot or something on his face but he'd let his father determine just how much darkening they needed before they went after Frank.

Stepping out into the hallway, Joe heard his father moving around downstairs; the murmur of his voice drifted up the stairs and Joe rushed down the stairs and into Fenton's office. His father raised a hand to him, indicating he should be quiet, while Fenton finished his phone call.

"…I know but it's the… yeah… I know… John…John… John!" Fenton exclaimed, getting the other man's attention the only way he knew how. "Let me get a word in edgewise, would you?"

Joe heard the voice on the other end of the line but couldn't make out any of the words. He slid into the chair he vacated earlier and listened to his father's side of the conversation.

"I know everything you've told me," Fenton said again slowly, enunciating each word carefully as if talking to a simpleton. "But that doesn't change anything. They have my son. Do you understand that part, John? They not only have my son but they threatened the rest of us when they took him. I have absolutely no reason at all to believe that the men who took Frank are on my side at all. If they had his best interests at heart, why the black ops? Why steal him away without letting us know what's going on? Why scare us all into thinking he might be killed? If they were on our side, they would have given us more to go on, but they haven't."

Fenton listened for a few minutes, occasionally saying uh huh, and sure, and yeah okay but… then he cut in again.

"I don't care, John," Fenton said. "Right now I care about one thing. Getting Frank back. Period. Anyone and anything else can go straight to hell for all I care. Do you understand that much? Is that inside your head now? Tell me it is, John."

Joe smiled broadly as he watched his father in action. His father was leaning on his desk rather than sitting in his chair and he was holding the phone like a weapon, ready to smash it down on someone's head if he didn't get his way immediately. Joe always liked this side of his father, the rare times that he saw it.

John, obviously John Amos, a guy Joe had met once or twice in his life and an old acquaintance of his father's, obviously didn't really know what he was up against because Joe had the feeling the other man was arguing again. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"I'm not about to let this go, John," Fenton declared hotly. "And if you knew me at all, you would know that. I just wanted to give you fair warning about what's going to happen – for some stupid reason I actually think I owe you but I'm beginning to wonder why. Consider this your single warning. I am going to get my son back. I am going to most likely shoot anyone who gets in the way. Or at least hurt them a lot. I don't know just how far into the Network you are but whatever the case is, remember this. Frank is my son. MY son. Nobody plays games with my family. Got it?"

It was dark by the time Fenton hung up a few moments later, without bothering to say goodbye, and he looked at his younger son.

"Well," he muttered forlornly. "That didn't go so well but I got some information. John is of the opinion that Frank was taken by the Network to keep him safe from the Gray Man, the assassins and whatever game they're playing. As you can tell, he thinks I should just leave Frank where he is, that he's safe and we should let this go and get into hiding ourselves. You basically heard the rest."

"That's insane!" Joe exclaimed as he sprang to his feet and smacked his right fist into his left hand. "They threatened to kill mom and aunt Gertrude. They threatened all of us. It's stupid! Does he think we were born yesterday? You don't think he's involved, do you? Maybe he's working for the other side."

Fenton frowned and shrugged. "If he has, he has plenty of opportunity to stop us before we storm the warehouse. How are you feeling?"

"Ready to storm Fort Knox," Joe declared. "Except I think I might get something to eat. You want a sandwich?"

His father agreed to that plan and went with Joe into the kitchen. They had a meal of sandwiches and chips and carrot sticks and then Fenton pulled out his map of the warehouse and spread it over the dining room table while Joe put the dishes into the dishwasher.

"Here are the entrances," Fenton said. "I think we should go in through here," he pointed to a window on the second floor. "We can work our way down from there. It'll be a harder insertion but less guarded. We'll have to climb up to the roof, move very quietly across, lower a rope and swing in. All things I know you can handle."

"Of course," Joe agreed.

"Once we get in we move cautiously and slowly, alternating down the hall toward entrances. Memorize those, Joe."

Joe looked over the map and carefully studied those. According to the legend an inch was 10 feet and the doors were spaced about ten feet apart. That would mean running from one to another.

"We'll check as many doors as we can," Fenton continued. "And then go down here…"

He pointed to a staircase on the map. "Any guards we run into we neutralize them. I've got a supply of tranq darts, we can use those to take them out, quietly. I want us to stay together at all times – do not lose sight of me ever. Got it?"

"Got it," Joe agreed.

"If we find Frank we'll try to get him out together," Fenton continued. "If we don't, I want you out as fast as you can go and calling Chief Collig. I'll have him, along with my other contact, ready to go just in case. Okay?"

Joe nodded and took a deep breath. It was going to happen. They were going to get out.

He was about to stand up again when all of a sudden a very bright light shone into the living room. They both stood back away from the door as they heard a voice from a megaphone outside.

"Fenton and Joseph Hardy. You are surrounded! Come out with your hands up!"


End file.
